


The Mammoth Tusk

by sadkhajiit



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Femslash, First Time, Khajiit - Freeform, Kissing, Smut, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 20:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4493496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadkhajiit/pseuds/sadkhajiit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ysolda finally has a mammoth tusk for the Khajiit caravaneers, but gets more than she expected in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mammoth Tusk

Ysolda's hand shook with excitement as she penned the brief note. All it said was “I have it,” but Ri'saad would know what it meant. She left the note with Hulda, who would see that it reached the wily Khajiit, and wandered out of the Bannered Mare and into the brisk Skyrim morning.

She couldn't help the triumphant grin that spread across her face as she savored the cool autumn air. She had finally gotten her hands on a mammoth tusk! Or, actually, someone had gotten it for her. But she had shared some bargaining tips in exchange, and the adventurer had seemed to think it a fair trade. In any case, she had a mammoth tusk, and as soon as she passed it along to Ri'saad, she could start doing business in earnest.

But first she had to get through the day. She wasn't sure she could act like everything was normal when she was dancing with joy on the inside, but she only had to keep it together until nightfall, when the Khajiit could slip into the city under cover of darkness. They weren't allowed inside the walls, though Ysolda would never understand why. They were perfectly nice people, if a little... feline.

Ysolda idly browsed the market stalls, hand passing over displayed wares as if she was contemplating what to buy, but her mind was far away, occupied by her impending meeting with the caravan leader. Would he bring one of his companions with him? He sometimes did, when he came into the city. On his last visit, when he had set her the task of finding a mammoth tusk, he had brought along Ma'randru-jo, who had watched her with cool impassivity through the whole encounter. The Khajiit women were a little friendlier towards Ysolda. There was Atahbah, who teased her about her frigid homeland with laughing eyes. And there was Khayla, whose gaze held something altogether different. Something that made Ysolda go weak at the knees.

She had often wondered at that. What was it about the way Khayla looked at her? Why did she feel like this? She had thought, at first, that it was similar to how she felt around Mikael, the bard at the inn. When she was near either of them, Mikael or Khayla, she had trouble tearing her eyes away. But Mikael wasn't much more than a pretty face. He was no hardship to look at, sure, but he was loud and arrogant and didn't seem to have the word “no” in his vocabulary. Ysolda couldn't imagine going to bed with him, even if he managed to stop harassing poor Carlotta long enough to ask. Khayla, on the other hand... Well. Her attraction to Khayla ran deeper, somehow. It didn't dissipate as soon as she opened her mouth, as it invariably did with Mikael. Maybe that was it? The woman barely spoke, after all. Perhaps once she started talking, Ysolda would realize she couldn't stand her, either...

She was so lost in thought, it took Anoriath three tries to get her attention. “Ysolda. Ysolda!” She finally started out of her reverie when he snapped his fingers in front of her face.

“What? Oh, Anoriath!” She laughed sheepishly. “I'm sorry, I was wool-gathering. Did you say something?”

“The venison. Did you want it?” The handsome Bosmer grinned at Ysolda's bewildered expression. “You've been staring at it for a solid five minutes.” Sure enough, there it was, a hunk of raw meat directly in front of her, and Ysolda realized she _had_ been staring off into space. Or, in this case, off into deer meat. “What do you say?” asked Anoriath, looking more amused by the minute. “You did promise me some of your venison stew if I brought this back...”

“Yes! Yes, or course I want the venison.” Ysolda paid for the meat as quickly as she could and scurried away from the hunter's market stall, red-faced.

She spent the next few hours resolutely focused on her surroundings, definitely  _ not _ thinking about any Khajiit, and especially not about the intriguing scar across the bridge of a certain caravan guard's nose, or about what lay hidden under all that bulky armor.

When the sun finally began to set, Ysolda calmly walked home, unlocked the front door, and stepped inside. She even made sure the door was securely latched behind her before jumping into the happy dance she'd been holding in all day. After a few spins around the room, she located her basket--dropped during her dance, it had ended up on its side, nearly tumbling its contents into the fire--and began on supper. The venison she had bought from Anoriath went into the stew pot, followed by potatoes and leeks from Carlotta's produce stall. A pinch of salt and finally, Ysolda's secret ingredient, a dash of canis root, to add that extra “zing.” She tasted it, added a little more salt, and hung the pot on its hook over the fire, humming cheerfully.

She nearly dropped her wooden stirring spoon when a husky voice spoke at her shoulder. “Smells good.”

Ysolda jumped and whirled, bringing her nose-to-nose with Khayla. She told herself that her suddenly racing heartbeat was the result of being startled, and nothing else.

She didn't bother asking how the Khajiit had gotten through the locked door without a sound, but she did look around for Ri'saad. “He is not coming,” said Khayla, drawing Ysolda's eyes back to her. “This one is here alone.” She had foregone her armor, opting for a richly embroidered tunic over leggings, presumably to avoid clinking as she snuck past the guards. Ysolda, intrigued by the rare opportunity to see Khayla in more form-fitting garb than her usual steel, was trying not to let her eyes wander, until Khayla's next words reminded her why she was here. “You have the mammoth tusk?”

“Yes, of course!” The lustful thoughts that Ysolda had definitely not been having were momentarily forgotten, excited as she was to prove her worth to Khayla. And to the rest of the caravan, of course.

She turned to collect the tusk from where she had stashed in a chest at the foot of the bed. She had to bend over to reach it, and when she stood and turned back to Khayla, she saw the Khajiit's eyes snap back up to Ysolda's face just a moment too late. Had she been staring at her ass? Ysolda gave herself a firm mental shake. Of course she'd been looking at her; what else was there to look at? It didn't mean anything.

She didn't notice Khayla's gaze darken when it landed on the mammoth tusk. “I see it is true,” she said. “You did get one.” The Khajiit took the tusk and carefully set it by the door, leaning it up against the wall. Then, before Ysolda could blink, she was in front of her again, and had her by the shoulders. Ysolda's heart skipped a beat. She was so close... But she looked so serious.

“Where did you get it?” asked Khayla. They were so close, she barely had to speak above a whisper.

“Get it? I...” Ysolda was so flustered by Khayla's nearness that she had to think. “An adventurer gave it to me.”

Khayla shook her, gently but firmly. “Tell me truthfully, my var. Where did you get it?”

Ysolda shook her head, bewildered. “I am telling the truth! He was wearing fur armor--the kind with the big feathery pauldrons?--and he carried a sword with the Imperial insignia stamped on it. I didn't ask where he got it, but I taught him some bargaining tricks and he gave me the tusk.”

Khayla studied her face for a few moments longer, then relaxed, seeming to accept that this was the truth. She kept her hands on Ysolda's shoulders, but loosened her grip. “I was worried,” she admitted. “When Ri'saad told us what he had told you to find...”

“You...” Ysolda couldn't fathom this. “You thought I'd go out and get it myself?”

The Khajiit nodded and began to rub her shoulders, stroking in small, soothing circles. “You were always so determined...”

Ysolda leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering shut. “I'm determined to become a merchant, Khayla. Not an adventurer. Not a fighter. I never even pass the gates except to trade with Ri'saad and Atahbah when you're in town.”

She heard a low chuckle, and felt Khayla's breath across her cheek. “I know this,” the Khajiit said. “Perhaps it was foolish of me. But I was so angry with Ri'saad...” And then Ysolda felt the lightest touch of cool, soft lips on her own.

Kissing Khayla was like nothing she'd ever experienced. The Khajiit's face was furry, of course, but it was nothing like kissing a bearded man. Her fur was so soft... Ysolda reached up to run her fingers through it, cupping Khayla's face. One hand went higher and found the impossibly soft fur in the hollow behind Khayla's ear. When she rubbed there the Khajiit made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a purr and deepened this kiss, tilting her head for a better angle and settling her hands at Ysolda's waist.

It was all Ysolda could do not to haul Khayla directly to bed. It felt like she'd been waiting for this forever, but she had never truly thought to be here, in Khayla's arms, kissing her. She wanted to savor it.

But Khayla apparently had other ideas. She was already tugging impatiently at the laces of the Nord's dress, her claws getting tangled in the knots. Ysolda felt the first tendrils of doubt creeping in. She broke the kiss, placing her hands over Khayla's. The Khajiit's movements stilled, her eyes focusing on Ysolda's. The Nord squirmed self-consciously. “I've never done this before,” she said.

Khayla led her slowly to the bed and they sat. The Khajiit wrapped one arm around Ysolda's shoulders, stroking her hair with the other hand, and waited.

Ysolda took a deep breath. “I've... fooled around a little,” she began, her eyes glued to the floor. “With men. Done some kissing, some touching.” She chanced a look at Khayla, but the Khajiit's expression revealed nothing but patience. Ysolda looked away again before continuing, choosing instead to focus on her hands, wringing them together in her lap. “I've never... No one's ever seen me naked. And I've never... gone all the way.”

Khayla left off stroking the Nord's hair and covered her twisting hands with one of her own. She was silent for a moment. Then she simply asked, “Do you want to?”

Ysolda looked her in the eye then, and softly, barely audible, whispered, “Yes.” And then they were kissing again, Khayla's hands in her hair, and Ysolda felt all her apprehension slipping away.

Gently, she pushed Khayla backwards, toppling her over and onto the bed, and went to work on the laces at her neck. Now that she'd made up her mind, she wanted to see what her Khajiit looked like with no clothes on. Khayla was more than happy to comply, and together they wrestled the colorful tunic off, tossing it over the side of the bed.

Ysolda ran her hands over the Khajiit's body, tentatively at first, then more firmly. Her breasts she found fascinating, small and covered in soft fur like the rest of her. Ysolda had never touched another woman's breasts before, and she cheerfully experimented, stroking and softly pinching to see what could provoke that enchanting rumble in the back of Khayla's throat. After some time she was struck by the idea to use her mouth, and was rewarded with a low moan when she ran her tongue over one hardened nipple.

Eventually her attention drifted lower. She was kissing her way down Khayla's stomach when she encountered a hard bump a few inches below one breast. She smoothed the fur to either side to get a better look, and her jaw dropped in surprise. The flesh under the bump was flat and smooth, not at all like another breast, but the bump itself was unmistakably a nipple. Khayla laughed at her astonishment. “Khajiit have larger litters that humans,” she said. “We must have a way to feed all the little ones, yes?”

It made sense if she thought about it, Ysolda supposed. But she wasn't interested in thinking just now. Instead, she went exploring again, with hands and mouth, and found a total of four extra nipples on her Khajiit's abdomen, and teased them all until she had Khayla moaning and writhing beneath her.

When the time came, it took no effort to slide Khayla's leggings down her hips and off the bed, but after that Ysolda had very little idea what to do. She suddenly felt shy again, but Khayla took her hand and guided it into the thick fur at the juncture of her thighs, where Ysolda found her wet and wanting. She quickly discovered she could tell what places to press, what movements to repeat, by taking note of her Khajiit's purrs and moans, and went to it with her usual enthusiasm.

It wasn't long before Ysolda felt Khayla's movements change pace, her moans become higher in pitch. Ysolda watched, fascinated, as her Khajiit came apart with a scream that was almost a yowl. She lay there, shivering pleasantly, and gave the Nord a canary-eating grin.

Ysolda stretched out over her and planted a triumphant kiss on those enticing lips. Khayla hooked her fingers into the top of the Nord's bodice. “You are overdressed, my var.” Ysolda, though deliciously disheveled, was still wearing her dress. Khayla all but tore it off her, then flipped her onto her back in one fluid motion, straddling her thighs. She simply looked for a moment, enjoying the sight of Ysolda's body laid out before her. “My turn,” she said with smirk.

She began at her belly and moved outward, placing little nips all around Ysolda's navel. She spent an eternity on the Nord's hips, nibbling where her skin was stretched tight over the jutting bone. Ysolda was caressed and kissed in places she never knew were sensitive; the insides of her knees, the undersides of her breasts, the stretch of skin just under her ear. She was sobbing, pleading with Khayla, begging her, having no idea what she was saying, only knowing that she wanted, she was dying, she  _ needed _ ...

She thought she truly would die when Khayla finally touched her where she needed it most. She parted her lips with two careful fingertips, and for a moment she admired the view. Then she slowly licked Ysolda, one leisurely stroke from the bottom of her slit to the tight nub just above it. It was too much for Ysolda. That long, warm tongue, just a little rough, sent her right over the edge.

She wasn't aware of the noises she made, whether she screamed or not, but when she next became aware of the rest of the world, her throat was a little sore, and Khayla was curled up next to her, purring contentedly. And perhaps a little smugly.

The last thought she had before sleep claimed her was that Khayla was indeed lovely without her armor. Just as she'd definitely  _ not _ imagined.

 


End file.
